


Scenes that could have happened in 11'08 and after

by alikatastic



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Dead Terry Milkovich, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Fluff and Angst, Husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 09:07:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30053115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alikatastic/pseuds/alikatastic
Summary: This is my take on what could have happened after everything went down on 11x08. with Terry and Frank and Ian and Mickey.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 3
Kudos: 129





	Scenes that could have happened in 11'08 and after

Ian looked at Mickey as he stared at Terry’s dead form. He knew his husband was hurting. It didn’t matter that just a few months before Mickey wanted to shoot Terry in the face seeing him dead now was traumatic.

“Mick.” Ian grabbed his arm, gently pulling him back. “Look away.”

Mickey’s eyes were filled with tears, but Ian knew he wouldn’t let them fall. “He’s dead.”

Ian turned him and grabbed the back of his neck. “I know, I know.” Ian pulled Mickey into his chest. “What do you want to do? Do you want to send her to jail?”

Micky leaned back, looking up at Ian’s face. “No.”

Ian cupped his face pressing a small kiss to his lips. “Go home; I’ll deal with this.”

Mickey stepped back, looking at Terry one more time before leaving. Ian heard the door close and let his eyes fall closed. He was stuck in the past watching Terry try to beat the gay out of Mickey. He opened his eyes, stepping closer to Terry. He felt rage swirling in his chest. Terry had to do this to his son, and he had to do it now.

“You stupid fucking cunt. You had to do this on his watch.”

He knew it was stupid, but he was angry on Mickey’s behalf. Mickey went out of his way to take care of Terry, and he couldn’t be decent enough to one nurse. He couldn’t keep his racist, homophobic, abusive mouth shut, and the old bag killed him. He didn’t know if he wanted to clap her on the back or punch her in the face. He pulled the bag from Terry’s head and pulled out his phone, dialing 911.

“Hey, um, my husband’s dad is dead. He is paraplegic, and I have found him dead in his chair. Please no lights or anything; the family is distressed.”

Ian tucked the plastic in his pocket and stared at the dead body as he waited on the EMTs. He was pissed. He had hired the lady who killed him. He had reassured Mickey everything would be okay. He was responsible for Mickey’s turmoil.

He watched the EMTs load him up and take him away before heading back home. He opened the door and found no sign of Mickey. He ran a shaky hand through his red hair. He was scared to face his husband. He was afraid that Mickey might blame him; he already blamed himself.

He slowly made his way upstairs and found Mickey curled up in bed. He kicked off his boots and crawled into bed behind his husband. He didn’t know if Mickey would want his comfort, but he would try anyway. He wrapped his arms around Mickey and pulled him close to his chest.

“He gone?” Mickey asked without opening his eyes.

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence as Ian breathed in the scent of Mickey. After a few minutes, Mickey turned, looking at Ian. “I should be happy.”

“You shouldn’t be anything in particular. You are what you are.”

Mickey scoffed, pressing his face into Ian’s neck. “You a therapist now?”

Ian laughed. “You don’t have to be anything. You’re allowed to be hurt or sad. You’re allowed to be happy or relieved. You can even be a mixture of it all.”

“What are you?”

Ian ran his hand up and down Mickey’s back. “I’m angry.” He hesitated, waiting on Mick to speak. “I’m pissed that it had to be now, that it had to be today. I’m mad that you had to find him. I’m angry that we were left to take care of him. I’m mad that he pissed off the only nurse that would work with him making her kill him. I’m mad because I don’t know if I should pat her on the back or punch her in the face.”

“You’d punch an old nun?”

Ian pressed a kiss to his temple. “If she hurts you, then yeah.”

“You big softie.”

They were startled as Ian’s phone began to ring. Ian grabbed his phone, seeing it was Carl. “Fuck, forgot Liam’s thing.” He answered. “Hey Carl, look, man, it’s not a good time.” Mickey watched him with a frown as he listened to Carl speak. “Fuck, are you kidding me…. Pulled his dick out? What the fuck? What hospital? Okay.”

“What’s that about?”

“Frank did some crazy shit at Liam’s thing. They had to take him to the hospital.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, but they can handle it.”

Mickey lightly punched him in the chest. “You need to go down there.”

Ian ran a light hand down Mickey’s arm. “You’re my husband. Your dad just died. I need to be here.”

Mickey gave him a small smile. “I’ll be here when you get back. Go put out the fires. Liam needs you.”

Ian closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“I know, man. Get out of here.”

The trip to the hospital was quick. His family was there waiting, and they filled him in on what happened. Something was wrong. When just that morning Frank tried to turn on the microwave with a remote, he had a sinking feeling in his gut. When the doctor came out talking about dementia, his heart sank. It would be hard on his family, and it would be even harder on Mickey. Ian didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to have his husband take care of Frank with him, but it seemed like the only option. Lip had Freddie, and he didn’t even live at home. Debbie had Frannie and all that shit with Sandy. Carl had a full-time job. The only ones that would ever be home would be Ian and Mickey. It was bullshit.

Mickey was half asleep when they got home. He covered his ears with a pillow, trying to drown out the noise. He could both Lip and Ian’s raised voices. He hadn’t heard them argue in a while, and he didn’t know if he could handle it.

“Fuck off, Lip. His fucking dad died today!” Mickey had to roll his eyes.

“You want to claim he’s family; he should be here for family meetings.” Mickey huffed and flipped on his back, listening more closely.

“He needs to rest. I can fill him in tomorrow.” Ian yelled back.

“What you’re saying is he’s only family when he agrees with you.” Mickey rolled his eyes at Lip’s bullshit.

“Fuck you, man. He’s my fucking husband. If he disagrees with me, there’s a fucking reason, but I know he’d have my back no matter what. We need to figure out what to do with Frank, not talk shit about my husband. He’s fucking dying, and someone needs to take care of him.” That made Mickey sit straight up. _Fuck._

“No, we don’t need to talk about it. You don’t get a choice. You’re not even his fucking kid.”

“Fuck!” Carl yelled.

Mickey didn’t know what happened, but he heard glass breaking and screaming. He was down the stairs in seconds to see his husband with a busted nose punching his brother in the face. Carl pulled Ian off, giving Lip a free shot. Ian clocked him with a right hook, and Mickey stepped between them. Mickey punched Lip in the gut and shoved Ian back. Carl grabbed Lip, stopping them from fighting.

“Fuck you, Lip. Why are we even fucking arguing? You’re so much like Frank that’ll you probably go on a bender and forget he’s fucking dying.”

Lip tried to lunge at Ian again, but Carl had a tight hold on him. “You’re not his kid. Why are you even here? You’re barely family.”

Ian scrubbed at the blood on his face. “I’ll fucking remember that. Don’t ask me for any fucking help. You think today was terrible, but this ain’t shit. He’s going to be a danger to himself and everyone around him. Have fun handling that.”

Mickey shove Ian guiding him upstairs. “Alright, Ian _CLAYTON_.” Lip spat from behind them. Ian made to turn around, but Mickey stopped him. Mickey led him into the bathroom and had him sit on the closed toilet as he wet a rag to clean up his bloody face.

“What was all that about?”

Ian had tears in his eyes, and Mickey could see he was fighting to hold them back. “Frank has dementia.”

Mickey scrubbed at the blood and made sure Ian’s nose wasn’t broken. “What’s that mean? For him? For us?”

Ian rubbed at his eyes. He was tired; it had been a long ass day. “Someone has to be with him all the time. He’s losing his mind, and there is nothing we can do to stop it or slow it down.”

Mickey sat on the edge of the bathtub watching Ian fret. “So, what’s the plan?”

Ian huffed out a chuckle looking at Mickey. “I don’t give a fuck.”

Mickey smirked, knowing Ian was full of shit. He raised an eyebrow. “Try that again.”

Ian looked away. “I probably shouldn’t have anything to do with it. I apparently invite people over who kill asshole fathers.”

Ian wasn’t looking at him, but Mickey could see the pain he was in. Mickey didn’t hold anything against Ian. He knew it wasn’t his fault, but he also knew Ian was a big fucking softie. He felt guilty. “You didn’t do shit. You called and got three different nurses. You didn’t have to do that, man.”

A stray tear dropped, making Ian hastily rub at his eyes. “Doesn’t matter.” Ian looked at Mickey and sighed. It really had been an exhausting day. “Can we just go to bed?”

“Yeah, come on, tough guy.”

Once the lights were out and they were in bed, Mickey thought back to the argument downstairs. “What did Lip mean when he said Ian Clayton like that?”

Ian laughed, pulling Mickey in close. “That’s my dad’s name.” Ian tucked his leg over Mickey’s hip, holding him close to his chest. “Guess we should call him tomorrow. He would probably want to know his brother is dying.”

Mickey laughed, feeling lighter than he had all afternoon. _Fucking Gallagher Drama…_


End file.
